Pictures
by Meme-Ann
Summary: Connie looks over pictures of she and Charlie growing up.


I dont own Connie or Charlie.

This fic is dedicated to Chels, I can't remember why I owed her a fic, but I did, lol. So, I hope she likes it.

**Connie's POV**

You always laugh at me, when I get nostalgic like this. I could sit in the den, in the dark for hours, watching old home videos, or going through our photo albums. That's what I'm doing right now. Looking at the pictures that fill these old books.

I know any minute you'll come walking in from the kitchen with a glass of whine in each hand. You'll set mine on the coffee table, and sit beside me. Then you'll chuckle and kiss me cheeks as tears roll down them. I know you think I'm crazy sometimes. At 5'2" I could get leveled by the biggest guy on the ice (like that Cole guy from high school) and not cry. I could watch as the police arrested my mother for the fourth time, and not let a whimper. But for some reason, looking at the snap shots, of what were some of the happiest times in our lives, and I bawl like a baby.

The edges of some are tattered, others are fading with time, still they're my most prized possession. I'm not really the sentimental type about most things. But when I see the smiling faces looking back at me from the pages, I can't help it. The fair haired, blue eyed, boy beside me in almost every photograph, with his mischievous smile. It was a smile I knew only too well, over our life long friendship.

It was however a very different smile from the one you wore the day we were married. Your eyes seemed to sparkle in another way, that day. And when you smiled at me, my heart nearly stopped. It was a simple service, just friends and family. I didn't even wear white. Somehow though we wound up with tons of pictures. Which, you know I don't mind.

You smile as I run my fingers over the glossy surface. It's a routine, that's become as comfortable as a pair of old shoes, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Though in all honesty, I've never been uncomfortable with you. I mean when we were younger, I wouldn't even make you leave the room, while I got changed. It just never phased me, you however, always seemed to a get a little pink. I thought it was adorable.

The album starts when we where just babies, sitting in the play the pen together. My favorite picture is one of me trying to kiss you, and you, looking like you're going to cry. If we had known then, what we know now. They go up through years from there. Our life together, on film.

You've always liked the one, of me signing the cast on your arm when we were six. I still maintain it was your fault, you fell out of the tree that day. But you just had to prove you could climb hirer then me. Though you were pretty proud of the ten stitches you had to get on your upper cheek. You told people that didn't know it was a hockey injury, like you were some big shot. You still have the scar.

And here's one from when we were in the fourth grade. My Grandmother took it, of our 'first kiss'. By that I mean, it was taken during the play we did in school, Snowhite. I was the Princess, and you were the Prince. And Guy, wasn't happy.

And this one, of when we made the playoffs in the Peewees. I dumped an entire can of grape soda, over your head from behind. Of course you knew it was my, because I'm the only person you know that drinks that stuff. And you chased me around the room, for an hour. That's when I had longer legs then you.

None of my Goodwill Games pictures having special meaning in and of themselves, but it reminds me, of the first time, I thought, maybe you had feelings for me, that were more then friendship. Like when Guy and I were just about to kiss on the bridge and you blew Duck call, and totally killed the mood. Or how, I had just stepped of the bench in the Island game, and you called me back to tell me, to 'Be careful out there' because they were gunning for me. You didn't seem to worry that much about anyone.

Freshmen year in high school, we were pretty inseparable for the first month or two. Look, here's one of us at the arcade at the mall playing 'Whack a Mole'. And despite you're very loud claim, I didn't cheat, you lost fair and square. That was one of the most fun times I had that year. Then got together with that Linda girl, and Guy and I gave us another shot. We didn't see each other as much anymore, and I thought I'd lost my best friend.

In fact, we pretty much stopped talking, other the simple pleasantries normally reserved for a causal acquaintance, not someone that you'd known your entire life. Sometimes I'd think you were looking at me, but when my gaze would meet yours, you'd look away. I'd feel a ball form in the pit of my stomach and I'd swallow the lump in my throat. It hurt, that you couldn't even look me in the eye.

Graduation, my Dad and your mom went crazy with the cameras. I must have a thousand pictures of the rest of the Ducks. But there's very few of you and even fewer of us together. Just the one, of us standing in the corner and you kissing, full on lips. One of those knee weakening, heart pounding, mind blowing kind of kisses.

You had come up to me, while I was talking with Julie and taken my hand. You didn't say anything, you just lead me away from the group. I felt my palm sweating, as you held onto my hand. You licked you lips, and leaned in and pressed your mouth to mine without a word. What I didn't realize until right that moment, I'd waiting for that moment, my whole life. And from then on, we were inseparable again.

Every little girl dreams of marrying her best friend. Very few of us get to achieve it. As I sit here, on the sofa, photo album open on my lap, I cry, the happiest tears, that have ever fell from someone's eyes.

And you smile at me, taking my hand again. "You're so beautiful." You whisper, tucking a strand of my dark hair behind my ear, with your other hand.

I blush and thread my fingers through yours, running my thumb over your wedding band. "I love you, Charlie Conway." I say, as you wipe my eyes.

And kiss my lips again, not as passionately as you did at graduation, but not with less love. "I love you too, Connie Moreau-Conway."

You take the book from my lap and close it gently, resting it on the edge of the table. Before I can get out a word, you've scooped me up in your arms, and carry me up to our bed. There's a picture on the nightstand, of just us, holding hands on the beach on our Honeymoon. It's the first thing I look at in the morning, last thing at night and focus on it, as we make love. It's my favorite picture of any, but it doesn't make me cry…


End file.
